


Chasing Love

by Mythril_Heart



Series: The Couslands [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Bad Flirting, F/M, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Slapstick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:04:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythril_Heart/pseuds/Mythril_Heart
Summary: You’ve heard of my parents? Well, then this could go one of three ways: #1) You think that my family history is demented, complicated, and outrageously unrealistic. You would be right. Or is it #2) you think that my family history is intense, charming, and endearing? You would be woefully misguided, and I suggest you re-evaluate your life. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s #3) you don’t give a shit about my family. In which case: hey lass, how do you feel like falling in love today?





	Chasing Love

The trouble with being tall, dark, and handsome is that you stick out very inconveniently. How are you supposed to make a quick getaway when all the women are tripping over themselves to look at you? When all of the men are swooning at your feet? It’s nigh impossible, and Fergus Cousland knows it firsthand. Born with his father’s stunning good looks, his mother’s acerbic wit, and the wealth that came with being the heir to the Teyrn of Highever, well... Fergus Cousland had it made. Basking in wealth and looks that he had no part in acquiring, Fergus found life so terribly boring. 

 

Which may explain why he was currently running through the streets of Highever, having stolen an egg tart from one of the carts down by the Trader’s Den. He was in search of adventure. His parents got to live through dramatic naval battles, dungeon escapes, blood magic, mythical sirens, and so on and so forth. Meanwhile, he was left to chase down fun and excitement through the deliciousness of an egg tart. Not the worst way to go about it, he supposed.

 

“Sir Cousland!” Someone in the crowd hollered. Fergus groaned.

“What is it, Runt?” Fergus hollered back, still cutting through the busy Market Day crowd.

“Sir Cousland!” Runt said again, holding down his cap as he ran through the crowd to reach Fergus. 

“Sir Cousland -” 

“Yes, thank you, I had almost forgotten who I was.”

“Sir -” Runt was panting heavily. “Sir Cousland - “

“That’s already been established, yes.” Fergus said, taking another bite of his tart.

“Sir... The Teyrn would like to speak with you. Immediately.” 

“Right. No doubt Father has one of those long sermons on honor and duty and all of that noble heroic stuff. Tell him I’m a bit preoccupied will you, Runt? I’ll try to pencil him into my schedule on the morrow, but honestly what with all these ladies -” he gestured to the large crowd of women who  _ weren’t  _ paying him an ounce of attention, “ - it’s very difficult for me to fairly allot my time.” 

“It’s about your marriage, sir.” 

“Hmm, yes. You did hear about the whole penciling him in bit, didn’t you?” 

“It’s to be in a week, sir.” 

“It’s to... What?” Fergus looked down at Runt for the first time, “A week? My wedding?” 

“Yes, sir. And you’re to be happy about it.” 

“Fat chance of that, Runt.” Fergus said with a laugh, “Well I suppose I should hear my father out.” 

 

_**Half an hour later...** _

 

“What?” Bryce Cousland asked, turning around sharply. “You’re getting married? This week?” Fergus glared at Runt; the little tool was already slipping out of the door. 

“Coming over here, I was strongly under the impression that that’s what you wanted.” Fergus said. “Clearly that’s not the case.”

“Well of course we want you to get married, Fergus.” Eleanor, his mother assured him.

“But in a week?” Bryce asked incredulously, “We haven’t even planned the cake, the venue, the curtains. Oh El, we have to make sure that the gardenias aren’t placed by the Hawthornes, you remember how Joan broke out into those hives at our wedding?” 

“Bryce, that was over twenty years ago. We attended her funeral two years ago.” Eleanor said, “And it was the roses, not the gardenias.”

“Was it death by roses, then? Fergus mused. “Speaking of roses, where’s Rosalind? I hear I need to pummel some over eager lads to the ground...”

“She’s already fifteen, Fergus.” Eleanor said with a wave of her hand, “Back when I was fifteen, I had hundreds of men at my feet.” 

“Out of terror, no doubt.” Bryce quipped, an arm affectionately going around her waist. Fergus gagged internally - his parents were sweeter than that egg tart. Mmm, egg tarts.

 

His father’s words snapped him back to an egg tart-less reality: “Now about your marriage... who exactly are you marrying?” 

“I thought that you had decided that.” 

“An arranged marriage?” Eleanor gasped. 

“Preposterous. Couslands marry for love.” Bryce said. 

“Your son has been far too busy chasing skirts instead of chasing love.” Eleanor chided. 

“I’m your son too, mother. Thankfully. And chasing skirts is all about  _ love _ , I assure you.” 

“Fergus Eremon Cousland,” Bryce said sternly, “There is a lady present.” 

“This is your influence,” Eleanor said, elbowing Bryce. 

“What?” both Bryce and Fergus asked. “I’m the picture of fidelity!” Bryce said.

“Look at him, I doubt he’d be able to make  _ it  _ work even if he had another woman!” Fergus said.

“I can make  _ it  _ work just fine, thank you, Fergus.” Bryce said.

“Really? With another woman?” Eleanor asked sweetly.

“I - what?” Bryce asked, “Of course not, El. You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” El teasingly asked, though seeing the sullen expression on her husband’s face, she laughed merrily and took his big hand in hers. Bryce’s spirits lifted immediately. His attention swiftly returned to his son’s matrimonial status.

“If you don’t bring a lovely lass home, we’ll...” Bryce turned to Eleanor, “What will we do again, love?” 

“Marry him off! To the highest bidder!” Eleanor threatened with a laugh. 

“Right. We’ll marry you off to the highest bidder. Though to be honest Fergus, given your... exploits, the bids aren’t too high. Your sister on the other hand...”

 

Fergus groaned and turned to leave. “She’s only fifteen, Da!” he stormed off. 

“Well, what do you think has bitten him in the naughties?” Bryce asked his Eleanor. 

“You know how protective he is of Rosie.” Eleanor sighed, “Soon it’ll be time for her to marry. Oh Bryce, they’ve grown, haven’t they?” 

“Yes, that is what children do, El.” She swatted his arm, smiled, and wrapped her arms around him. He massaged the back of her neck and pressed a kiss to her hair.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm not even done with Bryce's story, but damn this has been inside me for a while and I need to get it out!


End file.
